


Rings

by shittershutter



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: "... the fuck, Filip," the mother of his child mutters, and it honestly sounds a bit underwhelming. Her cat-like eyes flicker between Juice's interlaced fingers that he puts up instinctively to shield himself, his ring one in full display, shiny, and Chibs' hand on the mug.





	Rings

**Author's Note:**

> I've missed these two so much, dear god.
> 
> A kind of sequel to The Jeweller http://archiveofourown.org/works/4236243
> 
> * I'm still running this kind of AU where Juice's survived the prison experience and Chibs had nothing to do with it.

Chibs doesn't really have a speech or even a witty remark, so he just leans against Juice at the kitchen table the moment he sits down and looks up at Fiona. 

She's the brightest girl in Ireland, his Fiona, still alive and unscathed by the lifestyle only by the grace of her sharp wits; she'll piece it together. 

"... the fuck, Filip," the mother of his child mutters, and it honestly sounds a bit underwhelming. Her cat-like eyes flicker between Juice's interlaced fingers that he puts up instinctively to shield himself, his ring one in full display, shiny, and Chibs' hand on the mug. 

They come to Ireland for a family occasion with Tig running things back at home, and Chibs suggests to take the damn things off.

No one will notice either way, except Fiona. He has worn the ring on the finger that matters twice, the big believer in symbolism he is, each time for a person who has torn a piece of his heart and has never given it back. As one of those people she'll see, she'll know the significance. 

And it's not like she'll eat Juice alive. She'll definitely nibble at him a bit, though. 

Juice refuses. His voice shakes, and his fingers jump as he does, bless his heart, and Chibs wants to kiss him so badly there and then. His baby boy is putting the brave face on for him, and it's a heartbreaking sight. 

Sharing a meal with Juice and Fiona at the same time feels like a religious experience, and he'd bask in the divinity of it if the kid's face in his peripheral vision would stop changing colors from bright red to dull green like the most depressing chameleon ever. 

He wraps his hand around the kid's forearm rubbing the wrist with his thumb as the pulse underneath it thunders through. It breaks him from the trance, though, makes him swallow whatever he had stuck in his mouth.

"We should stay at the hotel," Juice finally says, and his voice is even. It grows steadier with each slide of Chibs' skin against his, soft and barely there as it is. 

"Good thinking," Fiona agrees and salutes Juice with her coffee. "Unless you want to run this whole 'brothers in arms' comedy routine in front of the elders the entire weekend." 

She gathers the dirty plates and walks a slow circle around the table like a lioness on the prowl, sliding her hand into Juice's hair to either give him some encouragement or see how badly she can fuck up his 'do in one motion. Most likely, both. 

"Your fucking grandfather is still alive, Filip, believe it or not, and he's coming over," she adds, plates clanking. 

Hotel it is, then. There is a slow tug of melancholy against Chibs' heart as he looks around the kitchen, the ugly green flowery pattern on the walls growing more distant by the minute. He isn't the man of the house, wasn't that man for the longest time, for better or worse. 

He leans into the shoulder of the man next to him once more, warm and real, and reaches for his cut. 

"We're going to have so many drinks about this, you bastard," Fiona says as she leans against the door to watch them drag their bags back to the car. "As soon as I get the circus out of my house."

It's getting dark, and in the rusty glow of the single bulb above the frame, she looks not one day past seventeen again save the white patch of hair right above her left eyebrow. Chibs' heart skips a bit or two, with her in front of him and Juice behind, leaning against the car door, watching. 

He feels suspended in space and time, between the past and the present. Lightheaded. Loved. 

"See you tomorrow, Juicy boy," Fiona calls out, breaking the spell, a playful growl in her voice ringing. Chibs doesn't need to look at Juice to know he jumps a little at the sound. 

"Don't be too hard on him," Chibs mutters, barely audible. "Harder than he deserves," he quickly adds. "He's had enough of that, good god he did."

She leans in instead of an answer and kisses his cheek, close to the ear where the fattest scar smudges and dissolves, the same spot Juice loves to mouth along. His weakest spot. 

She'll try. 

* * * 

Juice curls himself into the passenger seat, so small with the knees to his chest, and just watches him drive and make calls for a while. 

Last-minute reservations are not an easy trick to pull off, and Chibs goes through the names and acquaintances one by one, never getting frustrated enough to drop the cigarette out of his mouth. 

"This is how I fell in love with you, by the way," Juice says thoughtfully, fingers drumming against Chibs' thigh. 

Chibs pushes the glasses up his nose to look at him properly. 

"Watching you running shit, just making things work."

"You did well today yourself."

Juice hums, not quite in agreement, just considering. 

"What am I getting for being good, old man?"

Chibs scrolls to the very end of his contact list and glances at him through the rearview mirror. 

"You're getting fucked in the shittiest motel of Ireland, my boy."

 

* * * 

Juice flops down the mattress and instead of bouncing him back up the rusty frame attempts to swallow him, treacherous springs digging into the ribs. 

"Stay down," Chibs says finishing his drink. He makes one for Juice, too, a never-ending calculation running through his head of when did the man take his meds last, how much did he drink afterward. There is still a room for a lukewarm whiskey shot to make him sleep; it turns out. It'll have to wait, though. 

"There is no shame in eating out the hole you're fucking," as Tig would put it, and Chibs cosigns the statement wholeheartedly as he looms above the naked body on the bed. 

He spreads the cheeks and just kisses the rosy tender flesh the way he would Juice's mouth, loudly, sending streaks of saliva down the kid's balls, until he's sure that's all he gets, and it's enough for him. Then he pushes the tongue in and fucks him like he would with his cock, hard and steady. 

Juice's body gets on with the program quick enough, and he squeezes around him deliciously with the rhythm he craves, thighs trembling. 

Chibs wipes his face with the sheet when his jaw has had enough. It's not like the yellow-tinted fabric didn't worse during the century it's been here. Then he turns the kid over. 

Juice's face is streaked with tears up to the jaw, red blossoming through his cheeks and watching his own reflection in Juice's wide glassy eyes makes Chibs proud of himself so much he straightens and puffs his chest a little, a god of sex in his forsaken hellhole of a room. 

Juice's sure treating him like one at the moment. 

He can't say a word, but he mewls and spreads his thighs so wide Chibs is sure sending Lyla a thank you card for all the yoga classes she dragged him into. Yoga is good for anxiety, he's read, but dear god, does he appreciate the rest of the benefits as well. 

He gathers Juice's legs and puts his calves on his shoulders to bend him in two and take him like this. 

The hot flesh spreads around him as the bitten nails rake through the white strands of his hair -- he's stopped dying it when Juice stopped shaving his, a silent reflection of them slowly growing into different people -- and Juice keeps saying: "Oh baby, baby, baby..."

The kid's such a sweet talker when it matters. Chibs just drinks it up, the pet names he'd never think would stick to a person like him, to the last drop. 

"Put it back in, sweetheart," he whispers against Juice's hot mouth when his hips snap, and he slips out, thrusting chaotically against the empty cold air. "Just put it back in."

Juice does, reaching between them awkwardly and lining his cock up. They gasp in unison when they connect again. 

He cradles the kid's head in his hands and tells him how good he feels, how soft. It breaks his heart that Juice will take a compliment only being split by the dick up his ass but that's the way it is, that'll have to do. 

"Don't pull out," Juice tells him after they are done as he lowers his legs carefully stretching one along Chibs' and hooking the other one around the older man's waist in case he didn't hear him. 

Chibs digs his jaw into the kid's chest and looks up at him, lying there still frighteningly red in the face, but relaxed, the glassy-eyed look is gone. 

"... 'cause I want you here with me, old man, that's why" he adds and brings their joined hands into his line of sight to watch the rings shining in the cheap motel light. 

They don't match, the rings, to avoid attracting the unnecessary attention. The sentiments behind them do. 

Juice starts to squeeze him rhythmically after a few minutes still playing with their fingers, all innocent and sweet. 

"... won't work today, Juicy boy," Chibs mumbles. His dick gives a sympathetic twitch, but he's tired, drunk and emotionally drained, all at the same time and the realistic outlook in life is what kept him alive for five decades. 

"... gonna bring you home and fuck you in our bed as many times as you want," he gives Juice's heart a kiss through the ribs, thinks about it some and adds: "Then I'll pop Tig's viagra and fuck you some more."

Juice snorts and kisses the top of his head. 

"Blue pills got nothing on you, old man," he says but lets Chibs pull out with a weak little sigh. 

Chibs brushes his teeth in the bathroom after Juice passes out, washing the echoing taste of Fiona's cooking and Juice's skin out of his mouth. He leaves all of his rings on the sink as he dries his hands to go to bed. Except one.


End file.
